


Aftermath

by cuteashale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, brief mention of Erica's death, sort of a coda to 3x03 Fireflies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuteashale/pseuds/cuteashale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens after Derek brings Boyd and Cora back to his loft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

It is raining lightly by the time Derek has walked the teacher in the school out to her car and made sure she was well enough to drive home safely. She was scared, obviously, but she was alive and he was going to count that as a win. One of the few he's managed in the past couple of days. All in all, they’d come out of the vault and out of the school fairly unscathed.

When he makes it to his car in the parking lot, Scott and Isaac are waiting for him. They’re both damp, splatters of rain hitting them and trailing down the strands of hair sticking to their foreheads.

“We put them in the back,” Isaac says, soft and hesitant like he’s wary of what Derek might do or say. He guesses he would be wary too if he was talking Isaac while he was covered in blood and missing a lot of his clothes. All Derek does, though, is nod in response, too exhausted physically and emotionally for much else.

“We'll take them home." He wonders when his voice started sounding so weary, if it's something the others notice as well. "They need to heal. You need a ride, Scott?”

Scott shakes his head, which is what Derek expected.

“No, I’ve got it. Thanks, though. And, uh, good luck.” His eyes flick between both of them.

Derek nods. He’ll need it.

 

~*~

 

Isaac helps him carry Boyd and Cora into the loft. 

They settle Boyd on the couch and Derek lays Cora down on his bed. His fingers carefully brush hair off of her cheek but she doesn’t stir. He still can’t believe she’s here. She’s lying in his bed, face relaxed and looking as young as she was when he’d thought he’d lost her.

“Are you…good?” Isaac’s voice cuts through Derek’s thoughts and his immediate response is to nod, even though he's as far from good as he's been in a long time. He'd thought things were going to get better after he started building a pack. He had no idea that that was only the beginning of the pain he'd be feeling and causing in almost equal measure.

“Yeah, I’m good. Get some sleep, Isaac. They’ll probably be out for hours.”

He’s never experienced being cut off from the moon before. He’s always felt its pull, the tug and ache that settled deep into his bones on full moon nights and every day in between. He can’t imagine the pain they must have gone through, being unable to shift for so long. He has no idea how long it will take for them to be back to peak performance, but he imagines it'll take a good while.

Isaac disappears up the stairs to his room and Derek sighs, sits himself down on the edge of the bed, and drops his head into his hands. His little sister is alive. He doesn’t know how, he doesn’t know why, and he can’t wrap his head around the fact that the alphas have had her for at least three months.

He stands slowly, still feeling shaky on his feet after all the blood he lost, the healing he's still trying to do, and he walks toward the bathroom that’s down on the first floor of the loft, intending to clean up.

It’s an awful realization, but by now he’s used to disposing of bloodied clothes. There are trash bags under the sink specifically for this purpose and he pulls one out and drops each article of clothing inside it. His jeans might be salvageable but they smell like death and blood and mountain ash and he doesn’t want that to linger. Later he’ll burn these, but for now he ties off the bag and lets it drop to his feet as he raises his eyes to the man in the mirror.

The rain has smeared blood and dirt down his face, painted it down his cheek and throat. His eyes don't linger on his face for very long; he doesn't want to catch the eye of a person he only rarely recognizes as himself. There's a few patches of tender skin on his stomach, pink under the blood that's staining most of his skin a dull red, and he touches them gingerly before backing away from the mirror. The water warms blessedly quickly when he turns it on and he steps into the shower, letting the heated water rinse swirls of red down the drain.

By the time his entire body is lathered with soap and his hair is coated in shampoo, the reality of the situation is finally starting to dawn on him. All the while they were looking for Boyd and Cora, all he could think about was getting them home safely. Bringing them back alive because he couldn't manage it with Erica and he's not about to let anyone else die because of him. He's lost too many and he can't lose anymore. He _can't_. 

His fingers won't stop shaking. He stares at them, eyes tracking where callouses should be but aren't, fists opening and closing slowly several times before he lifts his hands and lets his head drop against his open palms.

Cora is _alive_. 

It’s the only thought in his head right now. He’s got a family, one that isn't Peter, one that he didn't make for himself only to slowly start to lose again, and that family is currently lying bloody and tired and _alive_ on his bed.

How is he supposed to tell her?

About Laura. About Peter. About what he is now and how that came to be.

There’s so much she doesn't know, so much he needs to tell her, and it’s overwhelming. 

The water pounds down on his head, washing away dirt and blood and the tears he refuses to admit are falling. What else in the past seven years has been a lie? He's thought Cora dead all this time but she's not. She's okay and she's alive and he doesn't understand. He doesn't know where she's been or how she managed to get out when nobody else did. He stands still and silent and confused until he’s shivering, until the water is freezing and his weakened body is protesting this treatment.

Only when he can't stand it anymore does he reach out and turn off the water. His fingers feel clammy and useless, weak like a kitten's, but they do the job. He watches them as if through someone else's eyes as he reaches for a towel and he feels them as though they're someone else's on his skin when he dries off and wraps the towel around his waist.

It feels like a dream. Like a terrible dream he’s going to wake up from later in a cold sweat and both wish and dread its reality.

Except it is real. 

Cora’s still sleeping in his bed and Boyd is still on the couch. Boyd is alive, Cora is alive, and Erica's...

He shakes away that thought.

Derek passes by both prone forms as he finds clothes to wear – worn jeans and a t-shirt that’s just slightly too big and won't rub against the phantom wounds that linger in his mind but not on his body.

He neglects socks and shoes. He won’t be going anywhere any time soon, not with Boyd and Cora to care for. He doubts Boyd will want his care but he’ll make sure he’s alright before sending him home to his parents. Cora’s stuck with him and he just hopes that that’s going to be okay with her.

The loft feels too quiet, even with the addition of two more heartbeats. Derek makes noise in the kitchen just for something to do, something that isn’t worrying about Cora, or Boyd, or Erica, who died too soon. 

An egg gets accidentally crushed in his hand when he hears a small voice say his name.

He wipes off his fingers with a dishtowel as he turns, eyes rising slowly to find Cora looking up at up. She looks all of ten years old again, eyes huge as they dart over his face, searching for something he hopes that she finds.

Apparently she does find it.

“Derek.” She says it again, voice wavering as she walks forward, her arms outstretched a little bit, hand raising slowly.

Her fingers land on his cheek in the same spot that, just hours ago, her claws had dug into, rending flesh and bubbling blood to the surface. He wonders if she remembers. Her fingers are gentle now, tracing over his skin like she needs to map it to know that it’s him. He lifts a hand and curls it around her wrist, her heartbeat something steady that he feels under his fingers.

“Cora.”

Her eyes flood with tears and she reaches for him, letting him gather her against his chest and hold her tight. She’s not the same little girl she was when he thought he’d lost her but she’s still small, she’s still young, and she’s still his baby sister.

His arms enfold her, cradling her against his chest with his chin resting on top of her head. She shakes in his arms and Derek knows how that feels, how amazing it is to have family you thought dead given back to you; he's probably shaking too. She’s a miracle to him and he’s not going to let anything happen to her. Not again.

“I missed you.” The words make Cora's body shudder in his arms and Derek closes his eyes as he holds her, relief flooding through him because she doesn’t hate him. She wants to be held because she missed him as much as he missed her, and that’s a good feeling. It’s one he’s going to have to focus on remembering when he tells her what happened to Laura and what Peter is now.

He thinks maybe that can wait, though.

He wants to enjoy holding her, just for a little while longer, and then he’ll tell her.

He’ll tell her everything.

**Author's Note:**

> A bonus [visual](http://fandomtaughtmehowtofeel.tumblr.com/post/52757814428/nininghasfeelings-derek-when-it-finally-sinks). I knew I wanted to write something based off of that and it kind of grew into this. Oops? Thanks for reading!


End file.
